Jeweℓ oƒ the Valar: Return oƒ the Light
by Figments of Delusion
Summary: In Japan she was just another face in the crowd; throughout Middle-Earth she was the silent wanderer with the peculiar face, searching for the second half of her only way home. Abe, Nanako was pulled into a world of elves, orcs, goblins, hobbits and dwarves — a world of magic. Not your average girl-falls-into-Middle-Earth fic! Bard/OC. Eventual Legolas/OC. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE.
1. Prelude (The Prophecy)

_**Prelude (The Prophecy) **_

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><p><em>In the black, there is some white.<em>

_In the wrong, there is some right._

_In the dark, there is some light._

_In the blind, there is some sight._

_There could be no good without evil, no improvement without error, and no true love without heartbreak._

_Middle-Earth lived neutrally, neither in great peace or horrible despair. But then came the chance for change. The light had finally returned, but with it, naturally, followed the dark._

_The hope and happiness of all resided in a single jewel: the Jewel of desire, life, and love – The Jewel of the Valar, named Vitalia (full of life)._

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><p><strong><em><span>Disclaimer:<span>_** I do not own the Hobbit or InuYasha. The Hobbit came from the wonderful mind of J.R.R Tolkien, and InuYasha belongs to the extremely talented Rumiko Takahashi. This will be the only time I will mention the disclaimer.

_**FULL SUMMARY:**_ _(Inspired by InYuasha). In Japan she was just another face in the crowd; throughout Middle-Earth she was the silent wanderer with the peculiar face, searching for the second half of her only way home. Abe, Nanako was pulled into a world of elves, orcs, goblins, hobbits and dwarves — a world of magic — on what was suppose to be the beginning of her happily ever after. Not your average girl-falls-into-Middle-Earth fic! Bard/OC. WAY eventual Legolas/OC. Repost._


	2. Into the Depths of the Unknown

**Chapter One: ****_Into the Depths of the Unknown_**

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><p>For the first time in many long months, an air of peace and serenity soothes the tense ache on the she-elf's shoulders. It has been a long and trying time for all of Middle-Earth: war, famine, death. But it was especially hard for one little hobbit who had not only the weight of the world on his shoulders, but its fate as well. A task that she could sympathize with.<p>

Now, a piece of the she-elf did not condone his decision to take the responsibility to destroy the ring on his own, she would of had a had better chance of completing the deed without fear of becoming..._tainted_...but there was no convincing the hobbit that she bore no ill intentions toward him and the ring (at the time). He thought it was his burden and his burden alone, there was nothing she could had said otherwise.

Besides, unlike back then – before her transformation and marriage vows – she could no longer go face-to-face with death without care of the end results. She has much to live for now; too much.

"Nanako!" the hobbits shout upon noticing the she-elf's presence at the doorway.

"Hello." Nanako smiles fondly at the four little hobbits who had become so dear to her. "How are you fairing, Frodo?"

A strained smile that does not quite reach his eyes faintly touches the corners of the dark-haired hobbit's mouth. "Better."

Entering into the room, with the way her silk gown flows in unison with her strides it appears as if she is gracefully gliding on air. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Nanako twists her upper-body around so that her front is facing Frodo. Her hand peaks out from beneath the long fabric of the sleeve of her gown and she tenderly strokes the side of his face. His skin is warm with fever, which was to be expected, but she feels what others cannot; the dark that prickles beneath the surface.

He was lying, but she smiles at him softly nonetheless. In return, his bright blue orbs plea with her to keep his pain a secret, and she nods once.

"I believe I owe you a story," she suddenly announces to change the subject, turning her gaze to the three other hobbits watching her and Frodo keenly. From the corner of her eyes, the dark-haired hobbit's shoulders visibly sag in relief.

Pippin, the youngest of the hobbits, beams with excitement and he crawls onto Frodo's bed with eagerness. He was the most adamant of the four to want to know of Nanako's origins; the truth behind the long told tales. He begins firing off one question after the other. "How did you turn into an Elf? Did you really go face-to-face with a dragon? Can you really grant wishes? Can I have one?"

"All in good time, Pippin," Nanako chuckles. "Settle in, because it's going to take awhile."

The four hobbits settle comfortably on Frodo's bed, all facing the she-elf to give her their full attention. It will be good for them all, including Nanako, to take their minds off of the recent events that very nearly drained them of all their life essence.

"As you already know, I wasn't always an elf. I was human once, and a very foolish one at that. I had fallen into a world that I did not know could exist, couldn't fully grasp Westron if my life depended on it– or any other language that was not my native tongue for that matter, I did not know why I was chosen to be brought here, nor who I really was or what I was capable of." The she-elf frowns. "Frankly, I was scared, and I tried everything within my power to go back to what I thought was my home. But let's start from the beginning, shall we? It all began on the night before my wedding..."

"You were going to marry someone other than Legolas?" All four hobbits gape at Nanako in disbelief, as if they couldn't fathom her with anyone other than the elf-prince.

"Like I said, this was before I knew where my heart truly lied," Nanako responds, coolly. "But, please, limit your interruptions or else I may lose my place." She briefly pauses to wait and see if they will interrupt again, but they remain silent, so she continues, "Now, it was the night before my wedding and..."

**[Tokyo, Japan 2013]**

The stars twinkled magically in the midnight sky, and without there being a single cloud in the sky the crescent moon seemed all the more bright and beautiful. The evening couldn't be more perfect.

Nanako ambled hand-in-hand with her husband-to-be, Kenji, walking the path she would be taking the next morning as she made her way to him at the end of the aisle. They wanted to take one last look at the location of their wedding before all the final decorations were put up that partially hid the natural beauty of the lush garden. One last stroll before they were to be parted for the night, not to see the other till it was time for the bride to come out of her dressing room.

At the center of the garden was the masterpiece, the very reason Nanako convinced Kenji and her parents to have the wedding in the outdoors instead of a chapel. It was a beautiful marble fountain that spewed the most crystal clear water Nanako had ever seen, for it being in a public garden. And she made an arrangement – that cost her parent's, plus her soon-to-be in-laws, a lot of money – to add a strobe light which gave off the affect that changes the water into different colors.

Removing her hand from Kenji's, Nanako headed up to the edge of the fountain and peered into the shimmering water. At the bottom, the faces of wish containing coins glinted up at her, giving her an idea. She dug into the pocket of her skirt, pushing aside the folds of her paper money in search of a coin, any coin, when suddenly one appeared in front of her very eyes. Nanako smiled up at Kenji and took the offered money.

She rubbed the cooper coin with the pad of her thumb, focusing intensely on her wish. The face of her fiance flashed behind her closed lids: his thick black hair, soft and full; the warmth of his chestnut colored eyes, filled with love and admiration; his pastel lips planting soft kisses along her flesh; his rough but gentle hands gliding along every inch of her body; the way he would wake her in the morning by tenderly saying "I love you" before he would snuggle her close to his bare chest.

_To living happily ever after_.

Nanako positioned the coin correctly on top of the fingernail of her thumb and then she flipped it into the fountain. With a soft 'plop' the coin containing her wish sank to the bottom, leaving in its wake a ripple effect that brought brief life to the water in the fountain. It would had been beautiful if she hadn't seen a hue of amber in the surprising shape of an eye blink back at her, which caused her eyes to narrow suspiciously. Wasn't the strobe light off?

But before she could investigate further, Kenji asked, "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you or else it might not come true."

"I hate to say this, honey–" Kenji came up from behind Nanako and slid his arms around her waist, interlocking his fingers across her bellybutton. He spoke in her ear, nuzzling her neck, "–but it is half-an-hour till midnight. Time to go back to the hotel, to our separate bedrooms, all the way across the hall."

Nanako groaned, throwing her head back to rest against her fiance's shoulder. "But I don't want to sleep away from you tonight," she complained. Twisting around, she snaked her arms around Kenji's shoulders and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Can't we just ignore the myth that we can't see each other until the wedding and sleep together?" she asked with a pout. A mischievous smirk curved the corner of her mouth, and she slid her hands across his shoulders, massaging gently. "I'll make it worth your while."

Kenji placed his hands on top of hers to halt her from her seductive mannerisms. "Tempting, but your mother would kill me if she found out."

"Then lets not let her find out," was her reply. "I'll sneak out of the room before it is time for her to help me dress."

Kenji chuckled and he dipped his head to capture her lips with a quick kiss. Nanako leaned into him to respond, but he withdrew and succinctly replied, "No."

She huffed.

**[·]**

_Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it..._

(_Beep. Beep. Beep._)

Nanako squealed happily and quickly smacked her hand over the snooze button, silencing the alarm set to wake her for her big day. She had been wide awake for about an hour ahead of schedule and was staring at the alarm clock unblinkingly and on the edge of the bed, waiting, ever since.

"Today's the day!" she cheered, throwing her hands up into the air. She was getting married to the man of her dreams, the love of her life.

Dashing for the closet, Nanako blindly yanked the first items of clothing off any hanger because it mattered not what she wore because in just a few short hours (after all her necessary appointments) she would change into the perfect outfit, her wedding dress.

Waiting for her in the bathroom, on top of the closed-lid toilet was a large white rectangular box, the only other thing that was prearranged for her to wear besides her wedding dress. A special made order for her first night as Mrs. Nobunaga. It cost her a bit of money for a tailor to stitch in the fabric to better reveal her slender frame, add a little _oomph_ to her A-cup breasts, and to shorten the hem for a better view of her toned thighs, but she thinks it was worth the extra cash. She worked her ass off with months of dieting and exercise for this single day, so yeah she wants to show off all her hard work. Opening the box, a white chemise with a sewn in satin push-up bra and a transparent lace abdomen, plus a satin hem, almost brought tears to her eyes.

Perfect. Everything was going to be perfect.

She and Kenji had taken a vow to not have sex for an entire month before the wedding. A month!

Unable to contain her excitement, Nanako won the world record for the quickest shower. She wanted to hurry up and change into the chemise to see how the final touches turned out. When she turned off the water and reached for the towel on the rack, she rubbed her skin raw, because the thought of feeling dry clothes sliding over wet skin made her cringe. She didn't want to ruin the fabric! Nanako tightly wrapped the damp towel around her hair for added measure to not get the chemise wet.

The provocative piece of clothing fit like a glove. Her breasts looked fantastic, bouncy and supple with just the right amount of cleavage; the transparent abdomen flared out, which allowed the most gentle of gusts to flow through and add an "innocent" '_swish_', showing off her natural subtle curves and didn't feel too constricting; the satin hem ended mid-thigh and felt like silk against her freshly washed skin. Next to go on was the white garter belt, stockings and, most importantly, the crotchless panties.

God did Nanako feel sexy. She did a little twirl in front of the mirror, just for herself.

_Kenji is going to love this!_ She giddily bounced with anticipation to see her husband-to-be's reaction.

At the sound of a knock on the front door, Nanako slid on a plain white sundress over the seductive attire. It should be her mother, Ume, collecting her for her hair and make-up appointment.

Nanako opened the door and was greeted by her mother's rather candid question of, "So, how does it fit; did the tailor get the measurements right?"

"He did," Nanako answered, barely containing an excited grin. "And it fits perfectly. I can't wait for Kenji to see it!"

"Now, now, no dirty thoughts until the wedding night," Ume playfully chided, hands placed firmly on her hips. "I'm not that eager to have grandchildren."

"My apologizes, Mother. I will try to contain myself." Nanako chuckled.

Tears collected in the corners of Ume's eyes, she sniffed, wiping at the bottoms of her lower lids before any tears could escape. "My daughter's getting married today," she said, as if to remind herself she was not dreaming and this day was actually here.

Nanako was the only child to Ume and her father, Hiro. Ume and Hiro married fresh out of upper secondary school, and after a few years into the marriage Ume wanted children and was wondering why she wasn't conceiving after months of trying. A trip to the doctor informed her that she, tragically, couldn't bare children. Thus they adopted Nanako when she was a few months old. And what made Nanako cherish her parents all the more was that they did not try to hide the fact that she was adopted from her. They told her the truth, but Nanako still thought that they – and only they – were her real parents. To this day she didn't know what happened to her birth parents, nor was she interested in finding out. All she knew was that Ume and Hiro raised her and loved her, and she was fine with that.

It was a good thing that Nanako didn't have her make-up on already, because she joined in with her mother in their feeble attempt to save the tears until the actual wedding.

"No-no cry-_ing_ until-til the ceremony." Nanako sniffed repeatedly, rubbing at her eyes with her left thumb.

Ume smiled tearfully and brought Nanako down into a warm and loving embrace. "Congratulations, Nanako. I couldn't be more proud of you," she spoke softly in her ear.

Nanako nuzzled her nose into the crook of her mother's neck, taking in the comforting aroma of sweet rice and apples her mother couldn't quite seem to get rid of. The smell of home.

"Thank you, Mother."

Withdrawing from the hug, Ume undid the complicated up-do of the hotel's towel wrapped around Nanako's head. "Come, lets get you ready." Nanako took hold of the loose towel before her mother could fully take it away and let her dark wet locks – which she was sure would be cold – fall onto her dry back. "In just a few short hours, you will be Mrs. Nanako Nobunaga," Ume boasted. "And you will no longer be my little girl; you'll be a mother of your own children some day."

Nanako willed for her smile to appear honest and genuine, not to give away her inner-battle. She didn't know how to tell her mother that she decided to wait on the baring children part of marriage. She hadn't told Kenji either, but he had to agree with her – they just weren't ready for children. Nanako wanted to travel, continue her education and get her PhD in archaeology.

Actually, it probably wasn't a good idea to get married either, but it all happened so suddenly though. Nanako loved Kenji and wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. Maybe she could convince him to hold off on the settling down and popping out babies during their honeymoon to Greece, where Nanako was dying to visit their many historical ruins.

She could successfully blame her father for the adventurous bug which flowed through her veins. Hiro was a preservationist for the National Museum of Japanese History, and more than often brought home many interesting pieces to restore and stories he showered Nanako with as bedtime stories. And sure Nanako could had followed in his footsteps and simply become a preservationist like himself, but she wanted to see the places where the artifacts were found- be in their shoes, see what they saw.

"Yes." Nanako nodded feebly. "Someday."

When Ume squeezed Nanako's hand affectionately, a queasy sensation uncomfortably twisted in her gut. Guilt most likely.

**[·]**

Pre-wedding jitters, everyone got them right? Both the bride and the groom, so Nanako shouldn't feel bad about the nervous bounce of her leg or the anxious cracking of her knuckles. Strange, because not a mere hour ago she was over excited and looked forward to marrying Kenji - time couldn't pass by fast enough. Perhaps it was the conversation of she being a mother one day that struck the run-away-bride cord, the look of pure delight on Ume's aged face at the prospect of becoming a grandmother. And Nanako suspected her mother wanted it to happen sooner than she would had liked, despite their jest on Nanako keeping her mind out of the gutter.

The hairdresser was almost done styling Nanako's hair, but the bride didn't pay much attention to her reflection on the oval-shaped mirror of the vanity. Not that she saw her reflection for that matter, the make-up artist was bustling around Nanako, bounced back and forth and dabbed a little of this and a little of that all over her face and parts of her neck and shoulders.

Nanako was too busy berating herself for thinking such thoughts as confronting Kenji and urging him to secretly go away with her, to forget about the wedding, they could always marry next year! But her parents sunk most – if not all – of their money into creating Nanako's dream wedding. Plus, she was positive if she did tell Kenji about her second thoughts he would be heartbroken and end the relationship.

"Oh my God." At the breathless gasp of Ume, Nanako lifted her gaze up from absentmindedly staring out into open space. When her eyes caught sight of herself in the mirror, she couldn't believe what she saw. "You look beautiful, Nanako." Ume smiled tenderly.

The make-up artist – Ayumi, Nanako remembered her name to be – deserved the title of, well, artist. She somehow made Nanako's skin appear soft and glowing, not a blemish could be seen from behind the concealer (to which Nanako simply had to learn what product Ayumi used); her cheekbones, which were basically non-existent due to the roundness of her face, were more defined and made Nanako look older than her twenty-four years, she looked more sophisticated thanks to the brown undertone Ayumi used as a shadow effect; and Nanako had always had fuller lips than the average Japanese woman, which was her favorite trait, and they tingled from the pearl-tinted lip plumper Ayumi used to smooth out the creases, but the plumper left the desired effect of making Nanako's lips look silky and soft – kissable; and last were her eyes – oh, her eyes! Ayumi used a blend of silver, black, and white eye-shadow that made Nanako's onyx colored eyes more... there were no words that came to mind, because they were just _there_, steely and striking, noticeable.

With the timing Nanako paid them for, as soon as Ayumi was done, Chiyo, the hairdresser, was putting on the finishing touches to Nanako's hair. She had done a slick side-bun with a faux side-swept bang across Nanako's forehead, plain yet elegant. But it was the last piece, the hair ornament, that made it all come together. It was to take place of a vale: a large white lily was placed above the bun, and connected to the flower were strings of small beads that tastefully dangled beside Nanako's cheek.

No day other than her wedding day could Nanako get away with looking this beautiful. Kind of sad when she thought about it. Every woman should look and feel like it was her wedding day, everyday.

Nanako wanted to touch her cheek – anywhere really – to check if the woman who stared back at her was truly her, but she didn't want to ruin all of Ayumi's hard work, nor burst her own bubble if this were, in fact, some odd stressed induced dream and she hadn't woken up for the real wedding yet.

Next on the to-do list was to change into her wedding dress. Nanako was left alone in the bride's preparation room to do this task. She didn't need the help. The dress was specifically made so that she could put it on by herself and surprise even her mother (who was there when she bought the gown) when she walked down the aisle.

The gown was hidden from sight in a portable wardrobe, as per her orders. Nanako raised her arm and placed her palm flat against the polished mahogany; slowly she slid down to wrap her fingers around the chilly steel handle, and she pulled the doors open.

Her dress was a cream colored gown with a sweeping train and matching demi corset (the clasps were placed at the front instead of the back) with peach embroidery along the center, and the sleeves would hang delicately at the sides of her upper-arms. Such a beautiful gown; she knew she had to have it when she first laid eyes on it in the bridal boutique.

Nanako hesitantly stood in front of the full-length mirror, dressed in the gown of her dreams. She couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze away from the floor. Her hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides, and her eyes kept darting side to side. What was she doing? Was she really ready to give up her life, her future, and her career? She was only twenty-four-years-old! There was still plenty of time for marriage and kids later down the line; maybe when she was thirty-something she could think about settling down after she had had her fair share of adventure.

When she finally brought herself to lift her head, all her pre-wedding jitters dissipated like a snap of the fingers at the sight of her reflection. She loved Kenji. He was the one. She wanted to have his beautiful babies.

Her hands ran down the sides of her dress and along the front, and she felt the cool silkiness of the smooth fabric beneath her palms. She smiled at her reflection, ready to begin her life as Mrs. Nobunaga.

Three soft knocks on the door caused Nanako to look over her shoulder. The door opened a crack, and the head of her father, Hiro, peeked through. "Nanako are you..." he trailed off when his eyes met her. Nanako smiled bashfully, she turned around to face him.

"I'm sorry, but I'm looking for my daughter. She is around this high, has dark hair, and goes by the name Nanako. Have you seen her?" Hiro jested. He entered the room and shut the door behind him. It was a lame joke, but Nanako laughed nonetheless.

Hiro smiled lovingly. "You look beautiful, princess."

Nanako coyly straightened out the imaginary wrinkles in her gown, all the while avoiding eye contact with Hiro. "Thank you, father."

Soft music wafted through the thin walls, and the clamminess returned to Nanako's palms. Hiro offered her his elbow. "Well, that's our cue," he said.

Nanako took in a deep breath to calm her nerves and then she nodded, the beads of her hair ornament tickled and bounced against her cheek which kept her from drifting off into her insecurities. She looped her arm with her father's, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as if he sensed her anxiety, which she was thankful for.

Hiro escorted Nanako out into the garden where the attendants were impatiently waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride in her wedding dress. Heads bobbed up and down, left and right, side to side, and voices murmured low and inconspicuous, and then they gasped. The bride beamed, elated by all the attention.

The setting was perfect: the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, loose pedals floated along with the gentle gusts of wind, adding to the picturesque breathtaking scenery; the afternoon temperature was cool and pleasant and comfortable. The fountain centerpiece was turned on, displaying the soft pastel colors of pinks, violets, blues, yellows, and greens.

Kenji waited for her at the end of the aisle; her prize at the end. The way he gazed at her made her feel as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered, that she was his light, his sun, his air, his world, his everything. Nanako never felt so loved in her entire life. He looked handsome in his freshly pressed black tux, tailored to his athletic frame. His dark hair was neatly combed and parted at the side instead of its usual style of hanging free above his eyes, though they still shined with mirth that told Nanako he still was the playful and spontaneous man she fell in love with.

When the moment came to give away the bride, Hiro stared pointedly at Kenji. "Take care of her for me, will you?"

Kenji bowed respectfully. "I will be honored to." And he took Nanako's hand.

Hiro sat next to his wife at the front row, who was already in tears.

"You look beautiful," Kenji uttered lowly enough for only Nanako to hear.

"And you're the most handsome man in all of the garden," Nanako eloquently replied.

The minister, Father Iseri, began the ceremony. "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of two lives, Nobunaka, Kenji and Abe, Nanako as man and..."

The Earth trembled. Murmurs and words of confusion spread throughout the viewers, wondering what could had caused the quake. Nanako exchanged a bewildered glance with Kenji. He gently squeezed her hands to offer comfort, and she nervously licked her lips. _Yeah, it was probably nothing._

"Continue," Kenji told Father Iseri.

Father Iseri nodded and cleared his throat. He started from the beginning. "We are gathered here..."

Nanako tuned him out. She noticed an odd sight from behind the minister. The water of the fountain sloshed and churned and swayed, yet there wasn't an explanation for the reaction: no wind, no more shaking. Nanako tried to ignore the rapidly moving water, thought it was just her nerves playing with her eyes and tried to focus on her upcoming vows, but her eyes kept drawing back to the slowly changing colors. A black mass collected just below the surface, first beginning as a spec but vastly it grew in size.

Fear crept up Nanako's spine. "...Kenji..." she called with worry. _That_ was not her imagination anymore.

With a loud burst, the black mass sprang out from the fountain and brought along with it a violent gust of wind. Nanako raised her hands and arms to shield her face, and she clamped her eyes shut to brace for impact, but, strangely the wind blew around her and only ruffled the skirt of her gown.

Like the snap of a whip, an unknown substance latched onto Nanako's wrist. She opened her eyes, wide with terror. The black mass sprouted up to the heavens and blocked out the sun, casting the entire garden in its menacing shadow. The screams of her wedding attendees did not even register to her brain. Tentacle like arms wiggled and wreathed, knocking back all whom were deemed too close in proximity to the bride.

The black vine on Nanako's arm yanked, but she pulled. Another latched higher onto her arm, but she continued to struggle and tried to break free from the bindings.

"NANAKO! SOMEBODY HELP NANAKO! SOMEBODY PLEASE SAVE MY DAUGHTER!"

"NANAKO! LET ME GO YOU FOOLS, THAT'S MY DAUGHTER!"

"Mother, Father!" Nanako shouted. At the sound of her parents pleading cries, a new found sense of determination combined with adrenaline pulsed from deep within her chest.

She let out a loud, determined cry as she pulled with all her might against the bindings on her arm. Nanako gritted her teeth. "Let. Go. Of. Me." A foreign sensation traveled up her constricted arm, an intense tingle, but whatever it was seemed to do the trick. With a final tug, the black mass screeched – yes, screeched – and she broke free. Laughing out loud in glee, she quickly spun around for a hasty retreat.

She stopped, mid-escape. What she saw made the chaos around her unimportant. The world just...ceased to exist, and her heart shattered.

Kenji. He was running away and he shoved anyone that was in his path (including Nanako's parents). He chanced a glance over his shoulder, and their gazes met. Only then did he stop. Nanako saw the grief in his eyes. It didn't even occur to him to try and help her, he just ran.

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><p>"He didn't try to help you?" the four little hobbits exclaim, jaws slack.<p>

"How can he claim to love you and then not come to your aid when you most needed it?" asks Sam. He stubbornly shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, in a huff. "Why that's not love at all."

"Time was different back then." Nanako feels the need to give her ex-fiance an excuse, though her lips twitch grimly at the remembrance of her first failed wedding. The expression of guilt on his face that is seared into her brain, and the utter betrayal she felt when he thought only to save himself; she really did love him, once. "There wasn't danger lurking around every corner, there wasn't the fear of orcs or goblins. It was kind of like life at the Shire, the only things that were most important was putting a roof over our heads and food on the table for our families."

"I bet Legolas would have helped you," Pippin mutters, pouting.

"Oh I have no doubt in my mind that he would," Nanako agrees. "Well, _now_ at least. He wasn't so keen on preserving my life when we first met, but that's not until later."

The hobbits groan. Nanako chuckles. "The less interruptions you make, the quicker I can finish."

A look of determination etch onto the hobbits faces, Pippin even went as far as "locking" his mouth shut with his fingers.

The sound of huffing and puffing and hard and rushed footsteps become louder and louder, until finally a familiar bushy-beard red-headed dwarf runs into the room. He makes a rather ungraceful landing as his feet slide against the polished marble, crashing into one of the columns.

Nanako holds back a smile. Oh, how she misses the lively actions of dwarves; and this particular one reminds her so much of his father. "Are you all right, Gimli?"

"Fine, fine." He nods, gruffly. "Just heard you were tellin' your tale to the wee hobbits. Have I missed much? Have you reached the point where you met my father?"

"I've just started." Nanako pats the side of the bed. "Have a seat."

"Yes, she just finished telling us about her first wedding. Did ya know she had a first wedding?" Pippin 'whispers' none-too-subtly, leaning toward the dwarf's direction with his hand positioned beside his mouth.

"You mean the one she had with the first King of Dale? Aye." Gimli nods, beaming proudly. "I was fortunate to be there as a wee child. Don' remember much, but I was still there nonetheless."

"WHAT!?" all four hobbits exclaim, gawking at Nanako. She smiles awkwardly.

"We haven't quite reached that part yet," she replies, cheeks flushed. Yes, she knows that having three weddings sounds terrible, but at least she has the chance to explain herself!

"So what did you do when you discovered that Kenji wasn't going to help you?" Frodo asks, timidly.

Nanako is thankful for his change of subject.

"Oh, I didn't say that," she aloofly replies.

"So he did try to help?" he wonders, brows knotted.

"A delayed reaction," she shrugs, "but sort of.**"**

* * *

><p>"KENJI!" Nanako cried out, thrusting her hand out in his direction. Her scream of fright sparked Kenji to go into action. But it was too late.<p>

The black mass came back with a vengeance. The dark vines tightly wound around her arms and waist. There was just enough time for her to scream before she was yanked into a deep pool of water. Impossible. There wasn't a deep body of water anywhere near the garden, so where did it come from? The fountain? It couldn't be. It was shallow, she would had hit the concrete bottom by now.

Where was this thing taking her?

What was happening?!

Air bubbles escaped Nanako's mouth, and she was amazed that she hadn't realized that she was still being dragged further and further into unknown depths. She twisted and turned beneath her binds, wondering how she could get herself free like she did before.

Her movement didn't sit too well with her captor. More swift than a shark on hunt, the black mass swung around above her and encased her in its dark prison. She didn't know what to do, she was running out of air and her thrashing about didn't help either.

The dark mass began to speak in a language that was foreign to her native tongue of Japanese. (And if she were in the right state of mind, she would had known that it was speaking American – or English – which she wouldn't had understood anyway because she knew very little of it, only enough to tell tourists she couldn't speak English nor understand them.) The voice was dark and gravelly, and it came from everywhere but nowhere. It could talk. It had no face, and it could talk. Nanako screamed. Which was a sure fire way that released all the precious air from her lungs.

She struggled more intently (if possible). She wanted to go home, she wanted her mother and father, they must had been so worried about her. Their shouts and screams replayed over and over in her mind. She had to go back to them. Much like before, the thought of her parents gave her strength she never knew she had.

She clenched her eyes shut and violently squirmed. The mass withdrew suddenly and sharply. Nanako had a moment of victory before a sharp pain burned from deep within her abdomen. The mass laughed menacingly, and spoke. Nanako ceased to struggle. Her eyes opened and she let her chin drop down to her chest; embedded in her solar plexus was a never ending black vine that seemed to stretch on for miles. She felt it rooting around in her body, and she writhed in agony. When the makeshift spear pulled out of her flesh, with it came a glowing orb. It was small, about the size of a marble, but it felt like her entire insides had been ripped out with it.

What was that?

Why was it _inside_ her?

Was that what it wanted? Was it going to leave her to die now that it had it?

...Was this the end?...

Kenji came to mind. No. She couldn't let it end like it had. She needed an explanation for his hasty retreat. Didn't he love her? She was going to give up her life for him!

She had to fight.

With the last of her breath, Nanako blindly reached out for the black blob with her bloodied hands and she screamed; it contained every emotion in her being: her rage, her confusion, her fear.

A blinding pink light shot out from her body, and then the mass was gone. Just like that, in a flash, Nanako was alone.

Her vision faded at the edges: she had no more air within her lungs, no more will and no more fight left within her. Her body went limp and she sank deeper into the unknown abyss. Just as she was about to give up all hope to be saved and let go, down floated a little pink object. Nanako frailly reached out and enclosed it in her hand, and then her world went dark.

* * *

><p>"There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to die at that moment," Nanako utters distantly, lost in the reliving of her tale. She has never really spoken in such detail about the incident which brought her here to Middle-Earth before, and the dull pit building up in her chest reminds her of why. She was literally dragged away from her home, everything she had ever known and cared for, and dumped someplace foreign, to be left forgotten.<p>

"You can stop if you want," says Merry softly. "You don't have to tell us the rest." Nanako noticed that he is the more perceptive of the four young hobbits, can see and piece together things the others' naive eyes could not – such as the Princess of the Woodland Realm's uncertainty.

Despite their earlier persistence when they first met Nanako, the remaining three hobbits and Gimli appear to be in accordance with Merry, content with the decision that she can choose to stop if too difficult to continue. Nanako smiles daintily, but with tenderness, at their show of concern for her.

"No, it's all right – _I'm_ all right," she replies, clearing her throat she shakes off her anxiety and straightens her posture to regather her courage.

She has dealt with much more dire situations before, she can at least tell her story of how she got here, to a place – her home – where her life changed for the better, although a bit later than she would have liked.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Next Time On <em>Jewel of the Valar<em>:** Nanako wakes up in a strange land, wounded and frightened. However, according to those who found her...she had been there before. "Welcome home, Vitalia."

_(This will take place before, during, and after the book and movies. In this story there aren't Hobbit/LOTR books, or such a man named J.R.R. Tolkien, and Nanako won't be stealing anyone's thunder. I believe when an OC is inserted into a movie/book/whatever, they will have sway and influence over the story-line, but not anything too severe. Plus, this will be the only chapter where we have interruptions by the Frodo and the others, the rest of the chapters will be strictly in Nanako's POV as she goes through the Hobbit.)_


	3. Hello Mother, Hello Father

**Chapter Two: _Hello Mother, Hello Father_**

* * *

><p>The gentle swell of salty waves splashed up against her tired body, rousing her from her blacked out state. Nanako groaned. Everything stung, ached, burned, or was cold, wet, sticky, and coated with sand.<p>

How in the hell was she alive? She should have drowned; she was surrounded by water with no end in sight!

She attempted to move. Huge mistake. A sharp, intense pain seared from the spot where the dark cloud gutted her for some stupid marble—an object she probably swallowed when she was a child. It hurt to the point that when she opened her mouth to scream, nothing came out- just a pathetic airless squeak. The side of her face plopped back down into the sand as the rest of her went limp, and she sobbed.

Why her?

Why did this happen to her?

Was this her punishment for having second thoughts about marrying Kenji? Was God really that cruel?

Nanako laid on the beach, contemplating her predicament. She had two options: don't move and wait to for death to come and free her, or grit her teeth and bare the pain, find out where the hell she was and if she could find help on getting back to Kenji and her parents. They must be worried sick.

Knowing that she didn't fight so hard against the unknown mass just to later die on a beach, Nanako took a deep breath, winced when her stomach moved in sync with the inflation of her lungs, and clenched her hands into fists to direct the pain someplace else other than her wound.

She stopped when she felt a small object bite into her palm. Luckily her hands were by her face or else she would of had to force herself to move them for a closer inspection. Uncurling her fingers, the light from the sun caught the item perfectly, as if it waited for that particular moment to emerge from through the dark clouds. At the center of her palm was the cause for all her trouble.

Well, half of it anyway.

The pink marble shimmered wondrously, coated only partially with Nanako's dried, crusted blood.

But where was the other half?

She remembered the bright flashing light when she grabbed for the dark mass after he impaled her, in a last attempt at fighting for her escape, but then it was gone when the light faded.

Could it... he... she... _whatever_; did it have the other piece?

Nanako rolled the broken marble in her hand, wondering: What was it? What importance did it have for her to be kidnapped and practically torn apart in order to get it?

Another ocean swell lapped up from behind her, nudging her body uncomfortably and seeped through the fabric of her gown, chilling her to the bone. She shivered. And this time the wave traveled up far enough to go into her nose, which caused her to sneeze. It was a reminder that she had other, more important, things to think about, like getting to a hospital.

Wait; should she even move? What if lying on her front, on the ground, was the only thing that held..._everything_...in? Could her wound really be that bad? Felt like it could be.

It was a risk she had to take because she couldn't just lie there and wait for someone to come and rescue her.

Returning to her first and only plan, Nanako clenched her hands – enclosing the broken marble in her left palm – to transfer and focus the pain. The marble actually helped. Gritting her teeth, she forced her body into motion: first her arms to lift herself with (which wobbled dangerously, close to giving in), and then her legs so she could slide up to her knees and at least rest on all fours to catch her breath. Immediately, her right palm went to press up against her wound, against her solar plexus; she gasped in agony, tears collected at the edges of her eyes.

With just those simple movements she was already panting, taking in sharp and quick breaths through clenched teeth.

Nanako tiredly lifted her head, searching her surroundings. Her eyes swept across the white, sandy beach but stopped when she saw the huge contrast of a wall of towering gray mountains not far in the distance; impossibly _too _close to the shoreline.

Dreadfully Nanako realized... There was no place like this in Japan. (Not that she knew of.)

She struggled to her feet, staggering and falling many a time, stumbling forward on shaky legs.

"Hello?" she shouted to her best ability, she quickly coughed hoarsely right after. Her shoulders shook violently as she was racked with cough after cough – they wouldn't stop!

Through her wheezing, she caught glimpses of a figure vastly approaching. Her hope soared. She raised her arms to flag them down, but she quickly regretted the action when she agitated her wound. Groaning, she caressed her abdomen with both arms and took a moment to wait for the pain to subside before she tried again. "Hello? Please, please can you help me?"

The closer Nanako and the figure got together, the more Nanako recognized their shape. It was a horse and its rider, a woman.

A wide, elated grin spread across Nanako's face. It didn't even bother her that the woman wasn't Japanese – far from it, actually. She was a fair-skinned Caucasian (most likely American or from Europe) with long, flowing blonde hair which fell around her slender shoulders and down her front like a lush waterfall, thick and shiny; the inverted triangle shape of her face complimented with her pert nose and pink cupid bowed shaped lips; her eyes were a sparkling shade of glacier blue, various hues ranging between the lightest of violets and darkest of blues reflected from her irises in certain lighting. Everything about this woman screamed stunning, perfection.

And though the silver band around her forehead and old-timely powder blue gown should had rung bells off in Nanako's head, she was just thrilled to find someone who could help her.

Without thinking, she spoke in the only language she knew, her native tongue of Japanese. She chose to brush off the look of astonishment etched on the stranger's angelic features, chalking it up to the surprise of Nanako's appalling state.

"Thank God you're..." Nanako trailed off, hit with a wave of nausea. Black spots invaded her vision but no matter how many time she tried to blink them away, they returned. She swayed, stumbling back. When she reached out to grasp something to keep her steady, her hand was quickly snatched by a smooth and strong grip, and while it kept her steady for but a moment- it wasn't enough to keep her awake.

**[·]**

The next few hours – or were they days? – passed in a series of blurs and more black outs. Nanako's eyes fluttered opened and shut inconsistently, and on more than one occasion she woke to lengthy conversations spoken with soft and eloquent voices, though she didn't know what they were saying; they spoke in a language she had never heard before. One thing was known for sure, she was tended to during all matters of the day and was kept well quenched with the most crisp and tasty liquid she had ever tasted, she no longer felt the pain from her struggle against the dark cloud.

A cool, soft substance caressed Nanako's cheek, and she stirred awake at the affectionate touch. With a yawn and a nice, long back-arching stretch, her back popped in three places. Nanako sighed in bliss, rotating her stiff shoulders. She sluggishly turned in the direction of what woke her, scratching at her collarbone, and yelped, scrambling back. Kneeling alarmingly close in her personal space was the woman who found her at the beach. Frantically looking around, she was most definitely not in a hospital.

Why wasn't she in a hospital?! She was stabbed and left for dead for Christ's sake!

Instead, she was in a flower meadow on top of a hill overlooking a shimmering, crystal clear lake. No... it was more of a small island than a hill, no longer and wider than half a mile on all sides, surrounded by water. The tower of mountains that blocked the view and passage of this breathtaking place appeared to be nothing but a gray blot in the vast distance now.

It was night, the sky clear; the moon was full and large, and the stars shun extra bright. Surreal, completely surreal.

To make sure that she wasn't dead and in heaven (because the woman who rescued her could certainly be an angel), Nanako hesitated to peer down toward her belly. Her fears were confirmed when she discovered herself to be out of her tattered wedding gown and was dressed in a thinner, lighter gown of pure white. When she ran her hand along the space where her wound should have been, she felt nothing- not an indentation, pain, not even soreness.

Disheartened, Nanako turned her head a fraction to face the stranger. Her voice quivered when she asked, "Am... Am I dead?"

The beautiful angel cocked her head, staring back at Nanako with a quizzical expression etched on her flawless face.

Nanako realized that there must had been a language barrier between them. _Can't angels understand all languages?_ she wondered, but decided to try the most commonly spoken language back on Earth. "Uh..._En-gl-le-sh__h_?" she struggled to say.

The perplexed furrow remained on the angel's brow.

Huffing more in irritation at herself than the woman (she really should had paid more attention in her English class back in secondary school), Nanako spoke the only line she knew in perfect English; a line she practiced for the tourists visiting Tokyo. She gestured to herself and shook her head, "I... know... no English. No English."

The woman blinked. Her perfect lips parted and she nodded. "Ah." To which she then smiled warmly. Nanako felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

The angel raised a delicate hand, her long and slender fingers emerged out of the sleeve of her pastel lavender gown and she touched her chest. "Estë," she said and then swept her hand toward Nanako.

Nanako uttered her name dumbly, in a stupor, "Nanako."

Nanako's eyes widened a fraction when the most delighted and radiant smile stretched across Estë's face, and she could had sworn she saw a hint of glossiness glint in her eyes underneath the moonlight.

"Nanako," Estë breathed out lovingly, reaching out to cup Nanako's cheek; her thumb gently brushed across Nanako's cheekbone.

Nanako leaned away from Estë's touch. Heaven was a little to _comfortable _with invading people's space for her taste.

Estë did not bother to hide her hurt from Nanako, and Nanako felt a pang of guilt tug at her heart. An expression of any kind relating to sadness did not look right on the angel's celestial face.

Without warning, Estë fluidly rose to stand, leaving Nanako sitting on the ground. Nanako watched her vigilantly. Was this because she didn't want to be touched so intimately?

Estë spoke, but Nanako didn't understand most of what she said. She grasped that the angel was speaking English, but all she understood was that she was going to tell someone that she was either here or awake.

When Estë began to leave, Nanako called out to her.

"Wait! Where are you going? Please don't leave me here all by myself! Where am I?"

Estë briefly paused at Nanako's plea, but the woman simply cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder toward Nanako before continuing on her way. To Nanako's astonishment, Estë didn't falter when she reached the shoreline of the little island, she raised her skirt a fraction, revealing her bare feet, and calmly stepped out on to the water.

She was walking on water.

Holy shit, she was _walking__ on __water_.

_I really am dead_. Nanako was devastated. _I died. That thing killed me. He took me away from my family and killed me._ She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around herself, and she cried.

She didn't know how long she sobbed for, left alone, but the tears were gone- dried up, and her eyes ached and were itchy. She was left with a cold, numbing sinkhole where her heart should had been.

Maybe this was the island the angels left the new-comers on to properly grieve before letting them mingle with the other dead people, so no one could see their misery and despair, because Heaven was a place where there were no such things as pain and suffering.

A heavy hand fell down on Nanako's shoulder, she raised her head from her knees and peered up at Estë, who had come back. The angel knelt before Nanako and tenderly wiped the tear stains from her face with the sleeve of her dress.

However, Nanako was more focused on the two men who accompanied Estë back to the tiny island.

One was gazing down at her with a mixture off conflicting emotions: disbelief, wonder, elation; it made Nanako feel a little uncomfortable because- why in the hell had everybody she met so far look at her like that? His dark hair shockingly extended in length down to well below his elbows (longer than Nanako's) and contrasted greatly with his pale, alabaster skin but, yet, oddly complimented it. His eyes were equally as dark, a shade of onyx that was familiar to Nanako... because she saw them every day in her reflection on the mirror. He stood tall, with strong, broad shoulders and a slender waist that was fitted well in a forest green tunic with silver embroidery in the shape of tree vines, and dark trousers and calf-length boots. His face was square with a strong jaw, flat nose, and thin pale lips, but he was not ugly; he had and unusual handsomeness about him, more rugged than pretty. And much like Estë, he also wore a silver band around his forehead.

The other was older than Estë and the first male, at least his hair was: stark white and thick, as was his beard. But strangely his face held no traces of aging, his skin looked smooth and supple, and his eyes put Estë's to shame, they were a meridian blue and were stunning. Although, Nanako couldn't see more of his face because his hair covered most of his features, she felt that this man was a position of authority compared to Estë and the first male. He, too, had a silver band across his forehead, except his had a blue diamond shaped jewel at the center, and in his right hand he held a long, silver staff with a second jewel encircled by an intricate swirl of white vines. Plus, his robes were definitely made of the more finer material, a collaboration of royal blue and gold, reaching down to the ground and covered his feet.

Were they angels like Estë?

"I know that you must be frightened, my dear."

Nakako gasped with excitement and relief, she beamed happily at the elder man. "You speak Japanese?"

He nodded. "It is a language that has long since been forgotten for centuries," he sighed, appearing almost solemn by the fact.

Nanako was confused. "Centuries? What...?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand. That's impossible. Where am I?" she demanded.

"You are home, my dear."

"You mean heaven, right? I died because..." she trailed off when she was about to blurt out how she was murdered by a black blob which dragged her into the shallow fountain at her wedding, which was absolutely insane. "I must have had a heart attack or stroke or something at my wedding."

"You are not dead," he declared. "Merely found your way home to us."

Nanako blinked. "What?"

"This was found clutched in your hand when Estë brought you here to her island." He gestured to Estë, and the angel immediately responded to his command. She withdrew a folded up piece of cloth from her pocket and unraveled it to reveal the pink marble, cleaned of her blood and glowing majestically under the moonlight.

"The marble." Nanako felt compelled to grab it, hold it, and protect it. It belonged with her, she knew it. It came out of her for Christ's sake, so, yeah, she should keep it. Estë let her take possession of the marble without complaint.

"But it is incomplete. Where is the other half?" the stranger inquired.

"I... I don't know," Nanako answered, a crease formed between her brow. "I think... it... has the other half."

The elder cocked his head to the side a fraction. "It?"

"The dark cloud. He took me away. There was water everywhere – I was drowning, and then... pain. He- _it_ pulled this out of me." She looked up toward the older man and asked, "What is it?"

He looked grim by her explanation. "All will be explained. But I imagine that you must see to believe." He held out a hand for her to take.

Nanako refused to budge until she put a name to his face. "Who are you?"

"You may call me Manwë. And this," Manwë waved his staff in the direction of the dark haired man, "is Irmo. You've already met Estë. As I've said, all will be explained in due time, my dear."

Still cautious, Nanako took Manwë's offered hand, and he helped her to her feet. She dusted off the back of the skirt of her gown and looked to Manwë who passed a look to Irmo over her shoulder. Nanako turned around just in time to witness Irmo raise a hand and press two fingers against the center of her forehead. She gasped when, in an instant, the island blinked away as quick as a snap shot and was replaced by downtown Tokyo.

She was home.

However, she found it extremely odd that the normally bustling-with-life streets were now void of any civilians or vehicles. Completely empty. When she looked around, slowly spinning in a 360 degree circle, to her horror, the once beautiful city was in shambles: buildings were crumbling, windows shattered, glass and clouds of smoke everywhere, there was even evidence of dried blood in various spots all over the streets and walkways. The sky was dark, filled with an inky blackness and an unpleasant yellow hue that looked unhealthy to inhale.

"I thought it best to start here, in familiar territory," said Manwë, somberly.

"What happened?" Nanako croaked out thickly. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her broken city, no matter how hard she tried to.

"It began in 2014: Russia invaded the Ukraine, riots in the Middle-east grew worse. It all became uncontrollable. America tried to ease the tension, but they only made it worse; they became one of the prime targets for attack. Frankly, they were one of the lucky ones... completely incinerated by nuclear attacks within the first few months after war was declared. At least they did not have to suffer like the rest of us did."

Nanako turned to Manwë, a furrow in her brow. "You were here when this happened?"

It didn't even occur to her that she and him were the only ones there in Tokyo (if they were really there that is). Irmo and Estë were nowhere to be seen.

"In Japan? No. My brother and I – along with a few of the others you haven't met – were in a secret underground facility up in Russia. My name was Dr. Cornelius Bradshaw, I was a scientist hired to research possible chemical bio-weapons before the war actually began. While my brother didn't have a PhD, he was still a brilliant engineer, his name was Demetrius Bradshaw." Manwë (or Dr. Cornelius) sighed wistfully. "I never really thought that our designs would actually be created and used in actual warfare..." His tone became small and brittle. His grip on his staff visibly tightened, his knuckles white. Nanako felt pity for him. "It was just supposed to be harmless research. An advancement in our career," he murmured quietly more to himself than to Nanako. He chuckled humorlessly. "We were going to be the dynamic duo."

A white trail of smoke shot over the sky, going down in an arch toward the far edge of the city. Nanako watched with tears streaming down her cheeks; it was a missile. The ground shook beneath her feet upon its impact, the buildings violently swayed and some even toppled over, taking a few more with them as they fell, like dominos. Then came a white ball of light, spreading at an alarming rate, heading straight to Nanako and Manwë's position at the center of the intersection. She raised her arms to shield her face and braced for the shock wave, but nothing came. When she lowered her arms, nothing was left. Only rubble. All of Tokyo was gone. A city of billions of people... gone, just like a snap of the fingers.

"Russia launched the first missile in 2022. My brother and I tried to stop them... but they wouldn't listen to us."

Nanako blinked and she was back on the island with Irmo and Estë watching her warily. She numbly faced Manwë again and almost felt pity for him when she saw the heartache – which now seemed to age him greatly – etched on his face. But she was far too lost in her own mixed emotions to care more about his.

Her mother... her father... Kenji... all of them were dead. Casualties of war, and only a year after she... What, went missing? She just saw them not too long ago. How could they be...? They didn't even get to die of old age, never got over the fact that she went missing, they had their lives taken away prematurely.

"A few protesters joined us and a few members from our original team in the fight to stop more nuclear launches from destroying and contaminating whatever was left of the world. I thought that if there were live human beings on a launch pad they wouldn't..." Manwë sighed gravelly. "We should have died. We should have disintegrated into dust." He shook his head. "To this day it is a complete mystery how we survived the blast; how anyone survived after they launched another twelve missiles. But we did, and we were different because of it. We didn't age, we never got sick, we could perform tasks we never thought possible. I don't know if it was from radiation poisoning, like a comic book, or by some miracle, but we became better – more advanced.

"After there was nothing left to destroy, my brother and I gathered as many survivors as we could find to begin a new life. Start fresh; with peace – learn from past mistakes. Most of the lands were uninhabitable, but we managed. And all was going well until later in the decades, when the newer generations began to think of us as Gods: worshiped us, feared us, called us their creators when we were not. I tried to tell them about the truth, about the different religions, about God or Gods (whatever they wanted to believe in), but most refused to listen; gave up their past lives.

"Eventually I, along with anyone who's DNA was altered, left. We came here to settle on this land, called it Valinor, when I thought the inhabitants of Middle-Earth were well enough to continue on without our influence. However, I did let them come here whenever they pleased: to relax, to enjoy, to be free. Unfortunately over time I had to seal off this place to man when they discovered the ruins of past cities; I answered their questions honestly, spoke to them the truth of their ancestors, but they could not handle it. It was too much for them to bare. They lost faith, their spirits, their hope, and I had to stop many from the further corruption of my brother. He took our new...abilities...to heart; thought that the reason we survived was to reshape the world to our own will. He tried to convince me to rule the people but I couldn't. I tried to convince him to come with me but he chose to stay behind in Middle-Earth where he actually thought himself a God. And in the end...that was his downfall. I couldn't let him do to the new world what the war had done to us."

Nanako had blocked out Manwë's voice. She was still having difficulty coping with the fact that she was still on Earth but somehow time-traveled to the post-apocalyptic future. Everything she had ever held dear had long been gone.

What was she going to do now?

_I wish they would have let me stay thinking I was dead._

"At the cost of saving the lives of many we lost one which we all held dear... You."

Nanako's attention was recaptured. Filled with complete and utter misery about her predicament and Manwë's explanation her head sharply turned to gaze at the elder in confusion (another emotion to add to her growing list), because how could they have lost her if they never had her to begin with? She knew for a fact that she had never seen the likes of him or Irmo or Estë before.

"A cause to our exposure to extreme radiation all those centuries ago was sterilization. We cannot have offspring," Manwë seemed depressed to mention. "Or so we thought."

Nanako pieced two and two together and, eyes wide, shook her head in denial. No, no, no, no – it couldn't be true, it wasn't possible. He was crazy, this was all a dream – a hallucination because... because... NO! She clutched her head, burring it deep into her legs as she crouched down to the ground in despair.

"Yes," Manwë declared. "And if you looked deep into your heart, your soul, you would know it to be true."

Nanako looked up to Irmo, a man who she shared many physical features with. Her gaze traveled down to his intertwined fingers with Estë, the beautiful woman who she thought to be an angel. They were together, a couple. Nanako suddenly felt sick to her stomach, so queasy that she wanted to vomit until her stomach was empty, to rid the gut wrenching burning withering around in her belly.

Ume and Hiro were her parents. They raised her since she was a child. Took care of her, taught her how to speak and walk and how to use the bathroom. They were there when she came home from school complaining of boy troubles and false friends who stabbed her in the back... Not the two impossibly beautiful celestial beings that stood in front of her, people she hadn't even seen let alone heard of.

"You were not born a child, a human as you appear to be now. That was Vitalia—_you_—taking the safest form of that time and era. When Melkor heard of your existence, of your power, he came here to Valinor and attacked, ripping you from straight out of your mother's womb," continued Manwë despite Nanako's obvious want for him to shut up and stop talking. Why oh why, did he have the ability to speak Japanese? Why couldn't he have been clueless to her language like Estë and Irmo?

Nanako, in spite of wanting to disbelieve everything that came out of the elder's mouth, caressed her abdomen where a wound that caused her so much pain she blacked out from it.

"Yes, almost exactly how Vitalia was taken from you. Except that since you are essentially Vitalia, it was ripped from your heart. And that is why you felt the need to have her near, because she is you and you are she; together you are complete. A beacon of life, love, purity and desire – a product of true love could spread joy and happiness to all, was used for the great of good by your mother. However," Manwë said gravelly, "under certain influence that power could be twisted, used for selfish gain – for evil. As a combination of your parent's gifts, you were an exceedingly valuable asset to my brother. He tried to use you for his own personal gain to take control of Middle-Earth.

"Taking you was the last straw. We, as the Valar, couldn't stand by and watch anymore as my brother spared no mercy for his evil deeds. The brother I once knew was long gone, there was no saving him. And after all we went through to prevent it, again, we went to war. Unfortunately for us though, when we thought we saw the light signaling the end of bloodshed and the returning of you safely home, with the last of his power before I sentenced him to life in captivity... Melkor took you away from us once more. He cast you to an unknown time and place. And even after his imprisonment it seemed that Melkor's plan for Middle-Earth kept on going in his absence. He was replaced by Sauron, one of the few who was changed after the third world war and a faithful follower to my brother. And in Melkor's place Sauron continued to keep you from us. We've encountered a few of your forms the previous times we got close to rescuing you, but Sauron always seemed to be one step ahead of us. We... We almost gave up hope in ever seeing you again."

A large lump formed in Nanako's throat. She tried to swallow it, but it kept coming back up. "That...that blob that took me away from my wedding, it was Sauron, wasn't it?"

Manwë sighed heavily. "He was the only one with the knowledge of your exact location. I am sorry that it had to be on your wedding day."

"My life. I can never get back to it, can I?"

The elder shook his head, glum. "I do not have the power to do so."

"But Sauron does?" Nanako snapped, irate.

"Melkor was the strongest of us all, even me. He must have given something to Sauron in order for him to..." Nanako and Manwë simultaneously had an epiphany. Nanako opened her hand containing the jewel fragment of Vitalia. "He's been harnessing your power even when separated by time," said Manwë, in awe. His gaze locked with Nanako's. "You are his power source, Vitalia."

Nanako immediately scowled, and through clenched teeth she corrected Manwë, "Nanako. My name is Nanako."

According to Manwë, she wasn't even human. She was the blasted jewel, "Vitalia", which was figuratively burning a hole in her clutched hand. How could the fragment of freaking marble feel, live, dream, and love? It couldn't, that's what!

A warm, affectionate sparkle glinted in Manwë's eyes which surprised Nanako. "No one had spoken to me like that in centuries," he remarked, amused.

"Well maybe if you can get my name right, it won't happen again," Nanako retorted. "All I want is to go home."

Manwë quickly frowned. "Are you sure? You know of what was- _is_ to come. You would die."

"But I would die at home, with my family," she replied defiantly. She didn't want to tell him that in the back of her mind she still thought that this had to be a very elaborate and realistic (to a certain extent) dream or hallucination. And that maybe if she found the other half of Vitalia, which would surely be with this Sauron guy, she would wake up, walk down the aisle, and marry Kenji. This had to be some sort of mental battle with the doubt she had been struggling with months before the wedding; it was a lesson.

"Now where can I find Sauron so I can put this thing back together?" she demanded, gazing right into Manwë eyes, chin and nose raised high as a sign of courage. She could and would fight with all her might to get back home.

"It is not that simple, Nanako," he replied. The briefest smile of satisfaction lifted the corner of Nanako's mouth when Manwë used her correct name. "Sauron is a very powerful foe which you cannot face alone."

"I did before. Twice." Nanako crossed her arms over her chest rather childishly. She could not be swayed to change her mind.

Manwë quirked a brow. "And exactly how did you?"

Nanako was left floundering for an answer. She didn't remember exactly how or where she got the bright light to come from, but she did know that it came from her. Somewhere, somehow. "I remember being so angry," she murmured. "I wanted to go home... That's when the light came from..." she peered down at her open palms, more pointedly at Vitalia which was on her left palm.

_All for a pink marble_, she couldn't help but think sourly.

"I cannot tell you where Sauron is because I do not know, but if he does have the other piece of Vitalia you should be able to find him. Despite what you think, she and you are one in the same. But you will need time to learn, Nanako. You cannot go out into Middle-Earth in the current state you are in. It isn't the same as your crime-free Tokyo, danger lurks in the darkness, around every corner. Can you at least give us that? Time to prepare you?" pleaded Manwë.

Nanako turned her head to face Irmo and Estë, saw their hopeful expressions as they watched her and Manwë, clueless as to what they were saying. That was when she realized that it wasn't their fault she was an orphan back in Japan. They searched for her (many times too if she heard Manwë correctly). Again, she looked down at their intertwined fingers, noticing the lack of blood and whiteness of their knuckles. Guilt pooled in her chest.

She licked her dry, chapped lips and nodded. "Okay," she agreed.

Manwë grinned and spoke to Irmo and Estë in their own tongue. Nanako had never seen someone so elated as Estë at whatever Manwë said to her.

Estë released her hold on Irmo's hand and dashed straight for Nanako, enveloping the young Japanese woman in the tightest of hugs she had ever had the pleasure of receiving. Estë's body trembled against Nanako's and a wetness began to develop at the crook of her neck.

Irmo, he was more hesitant, more cautious as if he were still in disbelief that she, his daughter, were in front of him in a flesh-and-blood body. Nanako gazed at him with uncertainty of her own, and this seemed to erase whatever doubts swam in his mind. A handsome and loving smile stretched his thin lips. He joined in on the embrace, tightly hugging Nanako from her side opposite Estë.

Nanako switched her gaze to Manwë, her eyes burning with unshed tears. He smiled at her.

These were her birth parents. Estë and Irmo. Her blood family.

Nanako cried.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Next Time On <em>Jewel of the Valar<em>:** The time has come for Nanako to begin her journey to Middle-Earth, her training is done, however, it isn't anything like she expected for it to be.


	4. Bump in the Road

**Chapter Three: **_**Bump in the Road**_

* * *

><p>Nanako watched the sun go down, disappearing behind the snow caped mountain peaks that shielded and cut off this little paradise from the rest of the fallen world. Slowly the serene golden hue that basked her mother's private island was gone, replaced by the flashing lights of fireflies and twinkling stars, accompanied by a crisp white full moon.<p>

If Middle-Earth (as Manwë called the only hospitable land that was left to support life) was even a fraction like Valinor, Nanako could come to grip with the transition from the hectic, bustling city-life of Toyko, to the more simple, turn of the century like country living.

It was peaceful.

But as calming and fascinating this change was, she still yearned to go home to her time and spend the rest of her life—however short—with her parents and Kenji (who she learned to forgive). Would they noticed how much she had changed during her disappearance? Would they care that she aged two years? That her usually pale, chalky skin has deepened a few shades? Would they fuss over her endlessly about the battle scars that now adorned various places on her body? Would they believe her if she told them of her time here with her birth parents (who were considered gods), and of the upcoming end of their life as they knew it? Should she even tell them, or let them remain in the dark until their untimely end?

It was these sort of thoughts that kept her up at night, or day, depends on whatever training schedule she was on. There wasn't any free time for her; she wanted to fill her days so that she could begin her search for the other half of the jewel as soon as possible. She wanted to go home while those who she was taken from could still recognize her.

A hand touched down on her shoulder, fingers gently squeezing her flesh. Nanako lifted her head, peering up at her mother, Estë, who she learned was callled 'the healer of hurts and of wariness'. It was part of her training that Estë was overly enthusiastic to teach her: identifying plants and their medical uses, the proper way to clean and bandage wounds, and even how to draw energy from her power—the jewel—to heal.

Nanako was now capable of so many things she never thought possible. All because she was, essentially, Vitalia (the jewel of the Valar).

Sure, she was semi-athletic before she was brought here to this time, because of Kenji; he, too, loved adventure. Rock-climbing, martial arts, running marathons, going to the gym at least twice a week—they did it all, together. He often joked how he wanted to be the Asian Indiana Jones, and she his book-smart side-kick/love interest who would save his ass on more than one occasion with her quick wits.

Manwë explained to her what the jewel was. The combination of her parent's abilities, a product of their eternal love. While romantic in theory, Nanako was still put on edge that she, as a human, was the manifestation the jewel took in order to protect itself in a new environment. So her being … born? … grown? … created? Whatever, it was a fluke, an accident because the jewel was stolen from the womb of her mother.

When Nanako offered to give the jewel back to Estë, her mother promptly refused and said that Nanako and the jewel were one in the same, could not and would not be separated. Nanako was confused that Estë treated her as her own flesh and blood, as a daughter, and not as an extension of her true child. (The jewel.)

Her father, Irmo (the master of desire, and God of Dreams and visions), on the other hand ... well ... he took a little more time to fully accept her as his kin, even though they shared similar physical attributes. But he didn't outright and refuse her as his daughter, he just didn't verbally say it like his wife would. His interpretation of accepting Nanako was to help her train for what lied beyond the paradise and sanctuary of Valinor.

Estë slid her hand from Nanako's shoulder when Nanako stood.

Tonight continued Nanako's training of strengthening the link between herself and the jewel. Daily, through all hours of the day, Manwë would request that she give him the jewel so that he may hide it for her to find without aid. At first it was a difficult task, but eventually, after a lot of complaint and giving up, she could find her half of the jewel from any place on the island.

When she traveled to Middle-Earth, she was to do the same with the other half Sauron stole. Or try to, at least.

The untainted land of Middle-Earth was nearly three-times the size of Valinor (if not more), and as her parents voiced- not entirely friendly. Nanako was worried that her ability to sense the link between she and the jewel would not be strong enough once she was prepared to leave Valinor.

Which was another subject brought up on, almost, a daily _basis,__and_ Irmo made their point very clear that they didn't want Nanako to travel alone on her journey. But when asked, no one volunteered to leave the island paradise, and her parents or any other Valar for that matter, were unable to leave the island and their duties to Arda as a whole.

They were trying to purify the other lands so that life could travel beyond Middle-Earth.

Nanako didn't blame anyone for not wanting to go with her. She would eventually have to face Sauron, a very powerful sorcerer, in order to get the other half of the jewel back; it meant almost certain death.

But Nanako did not want to give up her quest. She didn't belong in this world, no matter how many times her parents and Manwë tried to convince her otherwise.

Nanako and her mother left the tiny island by boat, though Nanako knew that Estë was humoring her since they deity was more than capable of walking on water. (A trait Nanako did not inherit from the blood-line.) And while she left in search of Manwë at their usual meet-up place at a clearing near the center of the island, Estë went off in a different direction to begin her nightly duties.

As Nanako neared the meeting spot, she pulled the chain connected to the jewel from around her neck.

She spotted Manwë's tall frame and long, white dress robe, his back facing her as he stared off into the distance, lost in his thoughts. So she called out to him.

In addition to learning how to defend herself in this new world, Nanako had to learn the language(s). And boy, were there a lot. Ancient Greek, Egyptian, Latin were a few she could understand, but learning Valarin (for the sake of her parents) and Westron (the common tongue) – at least, for her journey in Middle-Earth – simultaneously, in such a short time frame … she hoped she knew enough to get her point across should she need any help.

And since she began learning, Manwë refused to speak Japanese with her unless it was to correct her Valarin or Westron.

Nanako tossed the jewel at Manwë, which he caught with ease.

She took a moment to run the words she wanted to say in her head before she spoke aloud in Westron. "Hide it well. I am ready." Her 'R's sounded like soft 'L's, her 'V's sounded like 'B's, her 'H'es were almost non-existent, and she hit her 'T's pretty hard; her accent was still thick despite her two years of constant practice.

Manwë tossed the jewel back to Nanako. She caught it, a frown tugging at the edges of her mouth, and a crease formed between her brow.

This was different.

"Yes, you are," he declared, face stern.

Uh-oh, he was speaking in Japanese, which meant that he wanted her to fully understand what he was going to tell her.

Placing his hands behind his back, he strolled up and then to Nanako's side, pausing there as he said, "I have something for you. A gift that will help you on your journey." He only turned his head toward the direction he wanted her to look.

Nanako followed his gaze.

Leaning against a waist-high wall of boulders was a style of sword she had not seen since she was brought here by the black blob. A _nihonto_, a Japanese sword.

Curious, she headed over to and lifted the dark colored sheath, gently handling the frayed handle. The thick twine was coming undone, thinning out due to age, she noted with keen eyes; it was rough and bumpy beneath her fingers. Yes, this defiantly was an old piece.

In awe because she was handling a thousand-year-old object (just going by the time she came from), Nanako unsheathed the blade. She was surprised to see that the steel was not rusted. The moonlight glinted beautifully off the metal, as if it were freshly forged.

"Is this yours?" she inquired. It was the only logical answer if it were, because obviously someone well cared for this sword, polished it on a daily basis it seemed.

"Are you acquainted with the legend of Amakuni?" Manwë instead replied with another question rather than an answer.

"The swordsmith?" Nanako raised a brow, lowering the _nihonto_ and looking to the eldest Valar that had become like another father figure to her. (Making it three in total.)

Manwë nodded. "Recite to me his legend."

"Uh... All I remember are the stories my father, Hiro, told me when I was a child," Nanako hesitated to reply. "The jist of it was that Amakuni forged the very first single-edge long-sword with the help of the Shinto gods, except he added a curve to the blade, which had never been done before. He eventually made more, but the first sword he created - the one forged by the Shinto - disappeared, never to be seen again."

"Until tonight," Manwë hummed, running his right hand along the sides of his lengthy beard.

Nanako felt a jolt surge through her entire body. Her head whipped down to look at the blade so fast, it was as if she never took her eyes off of it in the first place.

_But … it was just a myth, a legend, a story_, she silently gaped. She wanted to erase Manwë's words from her mind, thinking him to be insane, but during her time here on Valinor she had learned to accept that what she once thought impossible was actually, well, possible.

Magic. Gods and monsters. It was all real.

"There is nothing new to teach you," said Manwë, from close behind Nanako. "Although I wish you would consider staying longer, to practice until perfection."

"I have been here for two years, doing nothing but practice," Nanako breathlessly spoke, gaze fluttering away from the memorizing historical piece up to Manwë. "Training every day until my body couldn't take anymore. It's time for me to find my way back home."

Manwë sighed gravely, turning away from her.

She had expected for him to say, "You are home", but he remained silent.

"The journey ahead of you will not be easy, but I will not stop you. Each day Sauron has the jewel, even only half of it, he grows stronger. He must be stopped while he is in his weakened state; and only you possess the power, the light, to put a permanent end to his darkness before he can rise to spread nothing but terror and destruction."

_Way to load on the pressure_, Nanako mused, a heavy weight added to her shoulders.

Was she ready to face Sauron? No.

Was she even ready to face Middle-Earth, alone? Possibly not.

But she was ready to go home. Go home to Ume and Hiro, and home to Kenji so they could have a serious discussion about the future direction of their relationship. (However brief it would be.)

"How soon can I leave?" she raised her chin to ask, peering into Manwë's deep, sorrowful eyes.

"That depends entirely on you," he answered.

Nanako tried not to let her surprise show. He was allowing her to go so soon? She nodded her head at him only one time, signaling that she was ready to go, immediately.

****[·]****

There was transportation prepared so fast that Nanako felt, despite their protests about wanting her not to leave, the Valar were eager to see her go. The boat was long and narrow, made entirely of polished wood. The design reminded her much of an old viking boat: at the head, there was a long necked, elaborate carving of the head of a swan; to the back was the tail, its feathers carved with such detail that Nanako reached out to touch them to see if they were as soft as they looked; the sails were positioned and made to look as if the swan was in flight, ready to take its transporters to their destination. Or in this case, just the one person—Nanako.

She was confused when she saw no one else on the narrow boat when she boarded. But she was told that the ship, apparently, knew where it was to go and it would take her there safely.

"Nanako," her name was called. Peering over the railing of the boat, Nanako saw that a few of the Valar had shown up to see her off: Manwë, his wife Varda, and her parents. It was her mother who said her name, and in her petite hands she held a bundle wrapped in brown clothe; beside her, Irmo had a quiver filled with black-feathered arrows in one hand, the other contained and a dark-wood longbow with what appeared to be golden carvings that Nanako couldn't quite make out from her distance.

Nanako walked down the ramp of the boat to meet up with the few Valar she had developed a closer relationship with. Her mother already had tears streaming down her cheeks, and a sad smile on her pink lips.

"My daughter," she began, speaking in Valarin. "While it pains me to see you go, I understand and support the path you have chosen to take. I hope that we meet again, once you have completed your quest, at least once before you return to the place that resides so fondly in your heart."

Nanako's heart twisted in her chest, guilt creating a sinking sensation in her stomach. Here, Estë, had been nothing but a perfect mother figure—kind and nurturing—and she was in a rush to leave her behind.

Nanako nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. "I will."

Estë extended to Nanako the bundle, her sad smile lifting to morph into a genuine smile of happiness. "Open and see what is inside."

Puzzled by her mother's excitement, Nanako pulled at the twine that held together the brown wrapping. Pushing aside the wrap, it felt as if her heart had stopped for a full five seconds before it began to beat again. With a shaking hand, she ran the pads of her fingers over the familiar peach embroidery on a bodice.

"I mended what I could on my own, the rest Vairë helped me with," Estë spoke softly. "I hope it was all right with..." Nanako cut off her mother's question of wiriness by throwing her arms around the woman's neck, burying her nose deep within her neck.

Her mother had fixed her wedding dress.

"Thank you," Nanako wetly whispered into Estë's ear, trying to sniffle away her tears.

Estë returned the embrace. "Anything I can do to ale your pain, my daughter."

When Nanako pulled away, she looked toward her father and his gift. Irmo was a lot more better at masking his emotion, but his eyes revealed his inner struggle to see her go. He held out the bow and quiver.

"This was my first longbow, which I carved with my own hands. May you use it to strike down any enemy who dares cross you," he declared, taking the few steps to stand behind Nanako. He proceeded to drape the sling of the quiver across her front so that the arrows were within quick reach at her back, and then the longbow soon followed.

Varda stepped up to Nanako, while Irmo went to stand beside his wife. Varda was a lot like Estë, in that she was absolutely heavenly, and held an air of extreme grace and elegance. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, her lips held no color as did her long, silver hair. It was her eyes that stuck out the most, sharp and a bright yellow, like two stars were plucked from the very sky and placed within her head. Today she wore a simple white robe that was held together by a golden lace that wrapped a few times around her thin waist, and her crown was made of a dark material rather than gold or silver like the rest of the Valar, and it looked to be embedded into the skin of her forehead, as if it was a piece of her.

"Since my husband had already given you a gift, I suppose this is mine to give," she said, holding out a neatly folded red garment. She unfolded the material with her long, slender fingers and then motioned for Nanako to turn around so that she could put it on. "This was made from the pelt of a Fire Rat, long since extinct, and is very strong. It shall protect you against the attacks of mortal weapons as well as weather all temperatures."

The garment was too big on Nanako's small frame, but she supposed that was the point. The sleeves passed her finger tips by a few inches, and the hem reached her thighs.

"The trousers which go with this coat has already been packed for you in your belongings. Use it well, Nanako," Varda advised.

Nanako hugged the material to her chest, turning around to reface the immortals who have become her second family. "Thank you," she said to all four of them. She mentally struggled to word together an eloquent sentence in the strange language, even though she spoke Valarin better than Westron. "For everything, for all you have done for me. And if under different cir...circumstances, I would have loved to call Valinor my home."

Estë had burst into tears, Irmo tried to comfort her.

****[·]****

There was plenty of food and fresh water for the two day trip from Valinor to a port near a town called Lindon. Once there, she was to buy more supplies before beginning her quest. However, Irmo had advised Nanako to go to a place called Rivendell first. He said that there she would find sanctuary and an alley if she ever needed one, and it would be best that she make peace with the lord before – and if – she found any trouble.

Nanako only hoped she wouldn't get lost along the way. She was taught to read a map, and she has one, but what if she lost it? Then what? Ask for directions in broken Westron? That meant that she would have to rely on navigating through the stars, but her lessons with Varda were far and few in-between because the immortal worked at night, and Nanako was already committed to lessons with her mother during that time (when she wasn't sleeping).

In the distance, shouts and hollers were carried with the breeze. Nanako went erect at the sound, since it meant that she was close to port.

This was it. She was here. Middle-Earth.

Anxiety gnawed at her stomach, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Nanako jogged over to the front end of the boat, standing on the tips of her toes in an attempt to see farther. The port was in sight, and she could see specks running to-and-fro along a flat surface. People.

The warning she received from Manwë and her parents ran through her head: that not all inhabitants of Middle-Earth were human, there would be some beings that would seem strange or odd compared to what she had seen in Valinor, and that she would have to remain neutral and calm when she came across one of these people, because she will surely find them all over the land.

Nanako rushed to collect her things: her travel pack, the food preserves that were left over, and her weapons; it all fit in one large bag that she strapped across her back. Which was most likely a bad thing, and why she was told to buy more supplies once she reached land.

A small crowd had gathered at the dock, seamen by the looks of their windblown hair, dry, chapped lips, and orange withered skin—from the salt carried in from the sea. A few lassoed a few ropes around the neck of the swan, pulling the boat closer to the dock.

Nanako pushed aside a side piece of the boat so that a ramp could be let through.

When she deboarded, a few men went past her. She turned her head to watch them, because when she left Valinor, she never bothered to wonder what would happen to the boat once she reached her destination.

Soon the men who boarded came back down, their brows knitted with bewilderment. One came up to Nanako and opened their mouth to speak, but when he looked at her—really looked at her—he faltered. His eyes widened a visible fraction, and his jaw slacked. She felt self-conscious by his gawking, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear that came undone from her ponytail and dipped her head slightly.

"Did you come alone, Miss?" Another seaman asked from the crowd, in Westron.

Nanako nodded her head. "Yes," she replied.

The look of disbelief which passed across their face made Nanako take a few steps back, away from them.

Need she be here anymore? She thought to herself. For all she cared, they could keep the boat, she had no more need for it.

"Where can I find place to rest?" she asked aloud, to anyone willing to answer. But no one did, they continued to stare.

The town was directly behind her, if the small buildings were any indications. She backed away, fully turning so that she could run away. The farther in Lindon she got, the more closer the buildings got to each other, and the more dense the population was.

Didn't Manwë say that the survivors of the war were few in numbers?

She slowed her jog into a casual walk. Immediately she wished she hadn't. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Her white and golden stitched robe and trousers greatly contrasted with the dark and grungy—in need of a wash—clothes the townspeople were wearing, plus her clean, smooth skin and neatly combed high pony-tail compared to their dirt smeared faces and straggly, greasy hair- made her stomach clench with nerves.

Nanako was warned about those who she would consider different, but she didn't take into account how maybe it was she who was different from them.

She wanted to disappear, into herself if possible. Dash inside of a building and hide until dark came. But she needed supplies, and she was advised to stay overnight in Lindon so she could make an early start the next morning to travel by sunlight.

"Fancy robes you be havin' there, miss," a gruff voice commented from off to the side. Nanako lifted her gaze from the dirt road, searching and finding the source of the remark. A short, pot-bellied man in a yellowed tunic (which Nanako was sure used to be white), tattered overcoat tearing apart at the seems, and scuffed knee-high black boots strutted up to her, pulling at the rope holding together his trousers. "Ya lost?"

"Do you know place where I can rest?" she warily inquired, nervously wringing the strap of her bag that she was clutching tightly in her grip.

"Why I sure do!" he beamed, revealing a row of yellowed and rotten teeth, which made Nanako grimace; it reminded her to clean out and wash her teeth after every meal. "Two buildin's down, place called the Naked Tavern. Won't miss it." He winked.

Nanako forced a polite smile onto her lips. "Thank you." She lightly bobbed the upper-half of her body with each word, bowing her feigned gratefulness (an old habit she kept since being taken from Japan).

"You're not from 'round here, are ya?" he continued to question her, even going as far as to follow her when she left to follow his directions.

She shook her head as her response.

"Well, I don't mean to be rude," he deeply gargled his throat, spitting off to the side. "But it's courtesy to top off those who stop whatever their doin' to help a stranger in need."

Nanako stopped in her tracks. He wanted money. Of course he did, no one ever did anything out of the kindness of their hearts, not back in her time, and not now in the future it seemed. She peered down at him, more importantly – his outstretched hand, his palm facing up.

She supposed she shouldn't start off her travels here in Middle-Earth on bad blood. She unlaced the coin purse that was tied to a belt loop around her waist, and opened it. With two fingers, she reached in and pulled out a single gold coin; judging by how the man's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, she was probably paying him too much, but it was all the currency she had. And when she handed the heavy-set man the coin, he greedily snatched it and clutched his closed fist to his chest.

"Oh thank ya, miss! Thank you!" he babbled his gratitude, flashing her his rotted teeth, again. This time Nanako smiled genuinely, because she felt that she really helped this man. Hopefully the coin would buy him and his family – if he had any – food and new clothing.

The Naked Tavern was a brothel. _Good to see that these were made legal, again,_ she inwardly grimaced. Women in dirty gowns flaunted their bosoms in any man's face – attractive or not, drunk or sober; there were a few bar-maids that appeared to be just that, bar-maids, serving steins with whatever alcohol they served in this time, although even they were not saved from the groping hands and catcalls. But Nanako couldn't be choosy, because what if this was the only inn in town?

She weaved through the dense crowd of customers, barely managing to squeeze through the fumbling drunkards and giggling prostitutes they were chasing after. Finally she reached the bar.

She was attended to immediately.

"What can I get you?" the bartender — Do they still call them bartenders? — asked, propping two hands against the wooden barrier between he and Nanako.

Nanako leaned against the bar so that she didn't have to shout her request. "Room, please."

The bartender raised a brow. "How long you plannin' on stayin?" he replied.

"Just tonight."

The bartender continued to eye her warily before he said, "Ten silver penings."

Nanako briefly wondered if they had banks in Middle-Earth, so that she could exchange a few gold coins for the proper amount of currency to spend. Again, she took out another gold coin and placed it on the table, to which the bartender quickly snatched it up.

"Knew you weren't from 'round here," he commented. "Word of advice, my Lady, don't go flashin' 'round all that gold here."

That was the first honest advice Nanako had gotten, and she was flattered that someone was willing to give it to her. Well, the advice, plus he called her 'my Lady'. She hadn't even been called 'my Lady' at Valinor, just Nanako, and she supposed that if she really thought about it, she would be considered royalty, or a deity, if anyone knew of her true origins.

The bartender reached under the bar, coming back up with a crudely made iron key. "Third door from the right."

Nanako took the key, but paused in leaving. "Where can I buy supplies?"

"I can gather whatever you need here," he said. "Depends on how far you're goin."

Nanako hesitated to respond. Should she, or more importantly, should she tell him where she was going? "...Rivendell."

The bartender sucked at his teeth. "Elves," was all he said, nodding once. "'bout two months' travel from here. With all the supplies you will be needin', can't make it there unless you have a couple dozen men to carry the bags. And judging by where you decided to spend the night... you're alone, aren't you?"

Here came the insecurities, again, gnawing away at her stomach and creating an empty hole in her chest.

"Got a map?" the bartender none-too-kindly inquired. Nanako nodded. "I suggest you travel light, stop at towns and only pick up whatever you need to make it to the next place. Travelin' heavy will only paint a target on your back for bandits."

Bandits. Of course they exist. Nanako wanted to groan aloud and throw her head back.

"Next town from here is called Fortworth, it's 'bout a ten day's journey from here. For now, I'll get you what you need." With that said, he turned away from Nanako and returned back to his duties of refilling stein after stein which never stayed on the bar for longer than a few seconds, all quickly snatched up by the ever talented barmaids who managed to move around with graceful ease.

As Nananko headed up to her room, she was semi-relieved that the bartender didn't recommend that she hire people to travel with her to carry her bags, because she didn't want to drag anyone else on her suicide mission.

The room was small, only big enough to fit a cot and dusty table and a sitting stool. There was no closet or bathroom, not that she shouldn't have suspected their would be.

She dumped her bag onto the bed, which didn't even squeak with the added weight. Oh, she could just tell that it was going to be a comfortable night's rest.

After removing her weapons, resting them on top the table, Nanako sat down on the thin, hard cot … and did nothing. She planned that when she reached Lindon she was going to do as she was told and buy supplies, which she had thought would take her the entire day, and then she would come back to the inn and rest for the night and leave the following morning.

Well, that didn't go as she thought it would.

Her entire day was clear, and there was nothing she could do, or anything she wanted to do. The stares she had received kept her confined within the tiny room.

She gathered her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around the front of her legs, and propped her chin on top her knees. Her eyes strayed to the small window in front the table, and she watched the limited view that showed her the vast land that lied beyond the bustling town of Lindon.

****[·]****

Nanako was startled awake when the door to her room burst open. Blearily, she blinked to steady her vision, but she wasn't quick enough. A heavy weight pressed down against her side, pinning her to the cot.

"Find the gold!" a familiar gruff voice commanded. Nanako's eyes widened when she recognized it to be the pot-bellied man who gave her the name of the tavern.

She heard the commotion of at least two other hands – besides the one holding her down – trifle through her things in their attempt to find her wealth. Her bag was ripped open, and her items were carelessly poured out onto the floor. She watched in horror as her privacy was invaded.

Was she seriously being robbed on her first night in Middle-Earth? She simply couldn't believe it.

No.

Nanako gritted her teeth, letting the anger flow. She wasn't going to let all the ruthless training she put herself through in Valinor go to waste. She could fight this! She could win!

All she had to do was get the big oaf sitting on top of her off.

With all her might, she lunged forward so that she could roll out from underneath one of her robbers. She succeeded in crashing onto the floor, landing painfully on her face first. But she shook away the burning pain and scrambled onto her feet.

The man who was sitting on her was the first to act, he tried to reach out and restrain her in his meaty arms, but Nanako didn't let him come close enough to touch her. She swung her right leg, delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of the man's face. He stumbled back, clutching his face.

Nanako didn't waste any time in pausing between her attacks, she was relentless: right-hook, left-hook, back kicks, front kicks – she gave everything she had in taking down the three men who dared tried to take advantage of her.

Within minutes, the men were all unconscious in her tiny room, some bleeding, some so bruised that they wouldn't be recognizable for a few days before the swelling went down. Nanako peered down at her doing, lightly panting from exertion.

Hastily, she gathered her things and stuffed them rather unceremoniously back into her bag. She needed to get out of this tavern – no, this town. Determined to let nothing stop her, Nanako didn't bother to change from her night clothes, she ran down the stairs into the main lobby barefoot and dressed in a long-sleeved underdress Estë gave her to sleep in.

A path cleared to the bar as men parted to the side to utter lewd comments about her state of dress (or lack of it). Nanako easily ignored them, patting an open palm against the bar to get the bartender's attention. Although, it wasn't necessary because he was one of the men who was gawking at her.

"My order, is it complete?" she demanded.

The bartender didn't have the opportunity to answer her, a hand had directed her attention to its owner when it clamped and grasped her bottom, squeezing and lifting her body to her toes.

"How much for tha nighh?" a drunken voice slurred into Nanako's ear, their hot breath blowing down her neck. She shuddered, not out of arousal- but disgust.

To say that the man reeked of just alcohol was an understatement. The lack of hygiene in this time was disconcerting; conditions such as these was how the black plague began, killing more than half the population of Europe. Could Earth (or Arda as it was now called) survive another near extinction of life?

"She doesn't work here, ya bastard. Now get lost!" the bartender shouted at the drunkard, ushering the man away from Nanako with a sharp wave of his hand.

Nanako's hands are curled into fists on top the bar. She was summoning up all her willpower not bolt out of the tavern because she needed those supplies, she wouldn't survive without them, the next town was ten days away.

The bartender eyed her warily, as if expecting for her to overreact and defend her honor, and when her expression remained stoic (or, at least, it struggled to), he said, "I'll go get your order." and he left with a nod.

Nanako wished that he was quick with his task, but almost immediately after the bartender left another man who had too much to drink pressed up close against her side, wrapping a meaty arm around her waist.

She couldn't take it anymore. Before the intoxicated oaf could even parts his chapped lips so that he may utter his oh-so-charming offer for a night of sloppy passion, Nanako spun out of his grasp, snatched her bag from the floor, and ran.

The fresh air felt refreshing against her clammy skin, and when her lungs inhaled the clean oxygen – rather than the stuffy, stale stench that was in the tavern – her pounding heart calmed somewhat. Still, she didn't stop. Her feet were fast against the dirt road, the slight sting of the small rocks beneath her flesh was a constant reminder that this was real, she was awake and this wasn't a dream that took a horrible turn during the night. A strange sound passed by her ears, slicing through the air that she was running through: loud gasping, sort of like a whimper. A wet substance freely flowing down her cheeks made her realize that she was crying. Wow. She hadn't heard herself cry since the first few days she arrived in this time, when she thought going back home was hopeless and there was a good chance she would be stuck here forever.

Oh God. She could be stuck here forever. In this horrible place, this … Middle-Earth.

Nanako fell to her hands and knees, her bag falling from her sweaty hands. She struggled to catch her breath, to stop herself from crying. Her mouth was wide open, greedily sucking in air only to cough it out, again.

Her entire body was trembling, shaking with fear and nausea until, finally, she emptied what little food she had left in her stomach.

"I can't do this, I can't do this," she whimpered to herself (in her native tongue), shaking her head.

She was scared. She was alone. She was foolish to think that she could go through with this quest and actually get her happily ever after at the end.

Who was she kidding? She was only one person; Sauron was some all-knowing and all-powerful sorcerer who trained under one of the most powerful Valar (more so than _Manwë_.). And judging by her first day here at Middle-Earth, she was going to get herself killed before she even met him, either by starvation or a robbing gone bad.

"You poor girl, are you all right?" a wispy, tired voice called out to her.

Nanako lifted her head to peer up at the kind, old voice. He reminded her a lot of Manwë: long white beard, withered facial features from facing many hard times, and baggy robes, plus a tall wooden walking stick that surpassed his tall height; a deep frown pulled at the old man's mouth.

"I've come to late, haven't I, my dear?" he solemnly sighed. "I had hoped you would not see the underbelly of this land for quite some time at least." Moving away from Nanako, the man gestured a hand to her bag. "May I? It does get frightfully cold late at night."

A knot formed in Nanako's brow as she watched him rummage through her bag without further permission. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I go by many names. Here they know me as Gandalf the Grey, but a home … my true home ..." He smiled, draping a red material around Nanako's shaking form that he pulled from her bag. "Your family called me Olórin," he finished, speaking in Valarin.

Nanako's eyes widened, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Could it be?

"Your father has informed me of your coming, and had asked that I offer my guidance should you ever need it, Nanako." The fact that he already knew her name and who she was made Nanako feel so much lighter, so much happier — she beamed, laughing with relief.

"Should I call you Gandalf or Olórin?" she wondered, in Valarin.

"Perhaps we should stick with Gandalf in this land, my Lady." Gandolf chuckled, winking.

"Please; Nanako, call me Nanako."

"As you wish." Gandalf smiled. "Now, back to business. This cannot possibly be all your possessions?"

Nanako turned her gaze down to her bag, shoulders drooping. "There was to be more," she mumbled. "But before the bartender could give me the rest … I left."

"I see," Gandalf hummed. "As an apology for showing up late, how about I go retrieve it for you?"

"Thank you." Nanako's lips twitched in an attempt to form a smile of her own.

Gandalf bid Nanako ado, heading toward town. Nanako wasn't all too eager to see him go, leaving her alone once again. She hugged her cover closer to her body, soaking in the warmth belonging to the pelt of the Fire Rat.

_"It shall protect you against the attacks of mortal weapons as well as weather all temperatures."_ she remembered Varda saying. Nanako slipped her arms through the sleeves, indenting to wear it all the way to the next town.

"Where to, my dear?" Gandalf inquired once he returned. It didn't even bother Nanako that he didn't say her name.

"Rivendell," she answered. "I was told to go to Rivendell."

Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "What a coincidence! I so happen to know the way."

****[·]****

As Nanako suspected, Middle-Earth was vast in size. In the two months it took her and Gandalf to reach Rivendell, she could've circled Valinor, _twice_.

Oh, did the journey further test her will to go on. She practically clung to Gandalf like a child, always having a piece of his thick, scratchy robe clutched between her fingers whenever they stopped at towns to refresh their supplies.

She didn't deny that her fist night left a mark; a mark which warned her to always question the motives and intentions of others.

Although, there were the moments – between towns – where she couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery. Mother Nature had taken back her land, covering everything with sprawling mountains, blooming meadows, and dense forests. No longer was there any polluted air caused by the exhaust from over-crowded cities, or the blinding lights of electricity, blocking out the starlight skies.

Plus, there was this one smally town inhabited purely by what Gandalf told her were Hobbits. Small, adorable beings they were, the size of children, except with much larger feet, joined by floppy ears. They were happy, joyful folk – warm and welcoming to Gandolf and his guest (Nanako). Apparently the old man was well known for his colorful, extravagant "wiz poppers". Nanako was pleased to discover that fireworks still existed, she loved them.

Hobbits, Dwarves, and Elves, Nanako had seen them all, including some odd, but sometimes spectacular, animals. However, in the back of her mind, it always took a slightly dark turn and she ogled the oddities. She knew the cause of their differences.

Mutation.

Manwë explained to her why the rest of Earth was uninhabitable, they were too radioactive from the nuclear explosions every country spat at each other during the war.

The few who survived, barely did – horribly scarred and mutated from radiation poisoning and other chemicals polluting the air. And the people of Middle-Earth were their offspring, adapted to their new surroundings. Even those who appeared very much human had tainted blood.

Nanako was the last pure-blooded human. That was a lot to chew on.

When traveling with Gandalf, Nanako told him of her time, of how she came to be in Arda. He took her story in fascination, and not once did he call her insane. At the end of her tale, he told her, "You are burdened with a great and glorious purpose, my dear; to bring upon us a new age – a golden age – of the light which was taken from us when Sauron ripped you from your mother's womb."

The pressure on her shoulders doubled.

Speaking of "glorious" purpose, the elves of Rivendell did not let her forget that; to them, she was a deity. Everyone stopped whatever tasks they were charged with to rise and bow, she was given the most lavish guest room, fresh clothes (gowns, traveling trousers and tunics) were made of the finest material, and the Lord of the house, an elf by the name of Elrond (who also knew she was coming), appointed his very own daughter to be her personal hand maiden, her name was Arwen.

Nanako, at first, mistook the she-elf of coming from Valinor, much like she had, but was shocked to learn that Arwen rarely stepped foot out of Rivendell. Arwen had to be the most beautiful woman (of any species) Nanako had laid eyes on while in Middle-Earth. She had porcelain skin with pink tinged cheeks and luscious red lips, a long face, thin nose, and a tall, willowy figure (for an elf).

Unfortunately, Gandalf didn't stay with Nanako. She was dangerously close to bursting into tears and begging the kindly wizard to stay with her always when he told her he was leaving after only two days of rest in the elven city. And for the month that she stayed, after he left, she hardly left her room (heck, the bed!). She hated the way the elves practically worshiped the ground she walked on, it made her feel uncomfortable.

She was no God. Not like her parents and Manwë, were.

She was nothing. She was no one. Just a woman … Just human.

She couldn't survive in this world. Who was she kidding? She was never going to go home; was never going to see her parents (from Japan), was never going to get the chance to yell at Kenji.

Did they think of her as much as she thought of them?

It was on her last day in Rivendell that she gained the gall to get out of bed and try to achieve her ever after; the day when she received a visitor who finally spoke "out of place" – Arwen. She had been quiet, bringing and taking Nanako food, and leaving Nanako to her daily routine of sleeping in, depressed. On that day, she had placed Nanako's breakfast on the table by the terrace which overlooked a surreal view of flowing waterfalls and moss covered boulders, and then she spoke—

"Pardon my words, your Grace." Her voice was like melted honey, soothing and sweet.

She and the others in the house of Elrond spoke in Westron, for Nanako's sake, even though the Asian had a shaky grasp on the language. But she refused to learn Sindarin, not when she wasn't fluent in the other two languages used in this era.

"But my father is worried for your well-being, though he would never speak of it to you. You have hardly eaten since the gray wizard, Gandalf, departed, nor have you risen from bed. Are you–"

"I am fine," Nanako rudely interjected, fiddling with the Jewel around her neck. Her tone was hollow and dry, slightly raspy from the lack of hydration. "You may go now."

"My father and the gray wizard had told me that you came to this land for a great quest. I have only heard stories about the Jewel of the Valar, and how it was stolen by a dark sorcerer to cast all of Arda in eternal darkness and misery. It … you … must contain a gift truly amazing, then. So please–" Nanako watched as Arwen gently rested her pale, creamy hand on top of her lightly tanned complexion, "–you must eat. Regain your strength. Do not give up hope. Do not let the dark burn out your light without having to try."

Nanako didn't hear Arwen's footsteps, but she did hear the soft shut of the door.

Arwen was right. Nanako was giving up without a fight. All because of what? The three men who tried to rob her on her first night? The three men whose asses she kicked? They certainly would think twice about stealing from a newcomer!

Before Nanako knew it, she had thrown the covers from her body and she went straight for the food.

She could not let Sauron win. She was Vitalia! Sauran wanted her to gain power and strength. That meant she had all she needed to put an end to his dark ways.

If Manwë didn't believe she was ready, he wouldn't had let her leave Valinor.

She would fight, and she would win (or die trying).

* * *

><p><span><strong>Next Time On <em>Jewel of the Valar<em>:** (Another time skip.) Nanako has traveled throughout Middle-Earth with little progress of finding Sauron, but she does met up with an old friend who asks her for a favor. _"I am in need of a warrior."_


End file.
